


The Rules of the Game

by AlwaysKeepAiming



Series: Together We Will Stand [4]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Building the Story, F/M, Jon Snow is King in the North, POV Sansa Stark, Post Season 6, Pre Season 7, Sansa Stark is Queen in the North, The North Prepares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:54:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28897731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysKeepAiming/pseuds/AlwaysKeepAiming
Summary: Sansa realizes a few things in her first few days of being married and being Queen.ORA Story in three on Sansa and Jon's new life.4th in a series. Best read after the other parts.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: Together We Will Stand [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1943203
Comments: 11
Kudos: 79





	The Rules of the Game

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back! After serious burnout of last semester (grad school and pandemic do not mix), I took some time for myself.   
> However, I am continuing this series and have many more pieces in work.   
> Please note this is canon divergent. At this point in this story, Cersei has not blown up the Sept, and Dany has not sailed for Westeros. Why? Because I can. 
> 
> I own nothing and get inspiration from period TV shows and Game of Thrones itself. 
> 
> Thank you and enjoy!

Sansa realizes a few things in her first few days of being married and being Queen. 

ONE

First, selfishly she rather enjoys being Queen. For the first time in years, she feels safe, respected, and liked. The Northerners hold her in high regard, the Stark who is going to restore peace. Or at least is married to the Stark who will restore peace. She and Jon are united, and Sansa has no doubt in their willingness to do anything for the North and that’s what her people see. 

She likes the power, and the way people move out of the way when she walks down the hallway. She’s seldom alone, and at the very least has Brienne off one shoulder, and Hanna off the other. Unlike Cersei or Margaery, she does not sit with her ladies and drink. Sansa works for her people: from the time she gets up until night falls, she tends to anything around Winterfell. It had fallen into a sorry state under the Bolton’s and then ravished during the Battle of the Bastards. 

Yes, as Queen there was an endless list of things that required her attention. For that, she rejoiced. The busier she was, the less time her mind had to wander and focus on less desirable things. 

She attends every council and war meeting, sitting immediately to Jon’s right. Most of the meetings are spent around a war map, various markers depicting both their resources and their enemies. Sansa is no fool, but while her brothers learned the art of war, she spent her hours singing, dancing, and working on her needlepoint. Oh, how she wished she could go back and eavesdrop on their lessons with Ayra. 

Jon seems to excel with this. He knows battle strategies and speaks of different tactics all the other lords understand. Sansa is picking things up, albeit slowly, but has a deep commitment to learning. However, she’s been trained to run a large keep or even a kingdom since a small age, so she focuses on other logistics Jon and his battle thirsty lords overlook. Food, shelter, and cold weather armor. 

Some meetings, she felt almost as if she led them. Ordering longhouses to be built for the troops, or rationing leather and wool. When she spoke, the lords and ladies listened. In other meetings, she sat on Jon’s right and only made minor comments. This was one such meeting.

“We need weapons. We need dragonglass.” Jon leaned forward on the table, having stood from his chair. His priority, as ever, was north, on the Night King. Sansa bit her tongue to stop from reminding him of Cersei and the Lannister’s for what felt like the hundredth time. 

“From where?” Lord Manderley cried, echoing the point many people felt. Dragonglass, like Valyrian steel, was a rare metal, already a scarcity. Every time Jon pushed this point that they desperately needed it, the lords pushed back that there was none to mine.

However, this time, Jon seemed unbothered as he produced a raven scroll from his pocket and held it between two fingers. “Dragonstone,” He declared, passing the scroll around, starting with Sansa. 

She quickly scanned the note as Jon repeated the information it contained, “Samwell Tarly, a Brother of the Night’s Watch, has written to me saying there is a large stash there. I trust Sam with my life. If he says it is there. Then it is there. We need to send men, mine it, and forge it.” 

The note had reached Lord Glover, who looked up with distaste, “Dragonstone? That’s Baratheon Territory.” 

“Stannis is dead,” Sansa spoke up, one of the few things she felt comfortable contributing to this conversation. “The Baratheons are no more.” Another house extinct due to the vicious game and wars at play. 

Many of the Lords murmured quietly amongst themselves but only Davos spoke up, “It’s probably been abandoned since Stannis left it. No one else would dare near it.” He was the only man at the council who had stepped foot in Dragonstone through his service to Stannis. 

“Why?” Sansa asked. Despite Jon and Davos getting along so well, Sansa still had a hard time trusting the man. He’d been so loyal to Stannis not that long ago. She knew from Brienne that type of loyalty takes years to get over. She hated to think the man Jon had come to trust so deeply harbored any regrets or ill feelings, but it was something she had to consider. 

Thankfully, Davos seemed to take her question as an innocent one, “For one, those bloody stairs. Everywhere you look, is a reminder of the Targaryen’s.” He explained, waving his hand. A sour taste immediately filled Sansa’s mouth. 

“The Targaryens are dead.” Lord Manderley spat. Many Northerners hated the Targaryens, not that Sansa blamed any of them. She herself felt the same horror in hearing the stories of the Mad King. 

“Not all of them. If rumors are to be believed.” Davos referenced the biggest uncertainty in their planning. The last Targaryen, living across the Narrow Sea. Perhaps gathering an army, perhaps their biggest enemy of all. 

No one said anything after Davos’ comment. Sansa watched Jon instead, who pondered this information while staring at the map in front of him. He was fully focused on weighing the options and seemed unbothered by the many eyes on him. 

Finally, he spoke, “The Dragon Queen is nothing more than a myth and a legend. Until we see dragon banners on the horizon, the dragonglass is ours to mine. We will send five ranks of men. Davos, you’ll go with them to oversee the first shipment. I need every forge in the North burning and every blacksmith preparing.” 

Jon moved a few tokens down to Dragonstone, his order clear. Every Lord and Lady simply exchanged side glances. It was Sansa who waved them off, “That is all, leave.” 

She remained seated as the rest of their council shuffled out. She wanted to remain until the room was empty and she could perhaps provide Jon with some support and telling him that he made the right call. 

Instead, Yohn Royce walked up to her and bowed his head. “My Queen.” The man that she had been trying to get alone for a while now. She needed to speak with him and secure the Vale so they could remove Baelish. However, the man had proven difficult as Baelish rarely left him alone. But as second in command to the Vale, his loyalty was crucial. 

“Ser Royce,” Sansa quickly eyed around, finding Baelish lurking in the corner, looking rather unhappy, before smiling at the knight. 

“I admire your commitment to these meetings and your contributions. Long time since I’ve seen a lady of your esteem with such interest.” He complimented. 

“I would do anything for my people. No matter the challenge or the threat.” That much she felt boldly confident over. While she may not have the technical experience, she would learn and do everything in her power to make sure the North was well defended. 

“I feel the same way.” She didn’t miss how he glared at Baelish’s back leaving the room. When she glanced over at Jon who also watched the interaction. She quickly shared a smile with him. Perhaps this would be easier than she thought. Jon’s eyes danced in approval, but he remained silent, looking at the map. 

Standing, Sansa lifted her arm so Yohn Royce may take it. “Walk with me Ser.” Let the delicate dance begin. 

TWO 

The next thing that becomes more and more apparent as the days progress on, Jon is a good husband. He listens to her and respects what she has to say. He offers her his arm whenever they walk together, nods in approval at her improvements to Winterfell, and complements her singing and dancing. In return, she tries to be a good wife, listening to him talk about battle strategies for what feels like hours on end, assuring the cooks serve his favorite meat pies often, and runs their household with an iron fist so he does not have to concern himself with that. 

They still sleep-in separate rooms, but keep the doors open during the day and speak freely to each other. In just a few days, they have grown rather close to each other. She now considers Jon not only a confidant and ally but a friend.

“What do you plan for today?” Sansa called out as she pinned the last bit of hair up into her bun. She would be riding out today to enjoy some fresh air and simply because she wanted to. It had been quite some time since she’d done something purely for her own pleasure. Being Queen allowed her ample opportunity to enjoy the things she once took for granted. It was one of the many simple freedoms that her marriage and crown allowed her.

Jon walked out of his room and leaned against her doorframe, buttoning his sleeve as he watched her sitting at her vanity, “Training. A few lords have begged me for a spar. I thought I’d finally humor some of them. And you?” 

However, Sansa took no note of his question, and instead took the focus of the familiar pommel of the sword on his hip. With lightning speed, she whipped her head and asked, “With live steel?” 

“Aye.” Jon seemed taken aback as one eyebrow lifted slowly, “As I always do.” 

“Oh, absolutely not.” Sansa stood and spoke definitively, fixing him a hard stare as she walked past him. The skirt of her riding habit brushed into his sword and she confidently walked to where breakfast would be waiting for them in their shared solar. 

“What?” He exclaimed, not moving to follow her. For a moment she wondered if this might be overstepping her say as a wife. Perhaps she had no right to speak on such things. But then the memory of him after the battle, tending to his bloody cuts burned into her mind and she strengthened her resolve. 

“I forbid it.” She stated, crossing her arms. 

Jon turned to face her, mouth open in confusion, “You forbid it?” He reiterated and she nodded once more. 

“Yes, you are a King, you are far too precious to risk it.” Sansa acted as if this were the most obvious statement. Valyrian Steel was not something to be messed around with and she would not allow him to gamble for just a spar. 

Jon seemed less convinced, “You cannot be serious.” 

“Oh, I am being entirely serious. It is far too great a risk for just training. What should happen if one of those lords lands his steel on you? I shall not have you bleed out on the training grounds so unless you plan to be in full armor, I forbid it. Do not go make a widow of me Jon Stark.” Sansa stated, staring at him for an extra moment, hoping her words would sink in. 

Turning, she sat in front of one of the two plates of meat and cheeses. When Jon sat next to her, he spoke nothing more of swords or training and only asked where she would go riding and if someone would be joining her. 

Later, as Sansa headed towards her morning ride, she overheard Davos speaking in the training grounds as they passed by.

“He is your Liege Lord; do you wish to harm him? No? Then no live steel.” Davos lectured the group of Lords gathered around him. Jon stood off to one side inspecting some swords that lacked the gleam of a sharpened blade. He took notice of her and began walking over.

Sansa reached out and touched Brienne’s arm, “Go see to it the horses are tacked and ready. I will meet you shortly.” Sending Brienne on her way, she redirected her path towards Jon to meet him halfway. 

The cold wind lifted her cloak and she nervously looked down, suddenly feeling embarrassed about making such a stink over him not training with Longclaw. Something about seeing Davos lecturing the various Lords, made her think that perhaps she had no right to speak on matters of swords and training.

“Thank you,” She spoke quickly once he was within earshot and gestured aimlessly with her riding gloves in one hand. “I appreciate you listening to me.” Hopefully, the air would mask the flush on her cheeks. 

“Of course, you made a valid point.” Jon smiled. Behind him, Lords selected their blades and began testing them against each other. Despite the clash of dull blades, he remained focused on her. “You’re going riding now?” He asked, nodding at her gloves and riding attire. 

Sansa pointed towards the stables where Brienne stood with two saddled horses. “Yes, and Brienne is joining me.” It had been his one request that she would not go riding by herself. She gladly abided, especially since he listened to her. 

That seemed to please him and something deep inside her rejoiced at that thought. Sharing his smile, she turned away to head to her horse. She barely got two steps away before his voice stopped her, “Sansa?” 

Glancing back over her shoulder, she found he had not moved or turned his gaze away from smiling, “Later I will see Davos and the men off to Dragonstone. I would like for you to join me.” He always made sure to extend an invitation whether it made sense to have her there or not. She loved their shared effort in putting up a united front. 

Yes, Jon was a good husband indeed. “I will be there.” 

THREE

Lastly, and probably least shocking of all, is how unhappy Baelish was with this development and her change of title. It was written on his face every time she and Jon entered a room, hand in arm, or when some Nobleperson whisked her away from Baelish’s side. Her resources now surmounted what Baelish could offer her and she sought council from pretty much anyone else. She no longer needed Baelish. 

Perhaps that was the most frustrating thing for Baelish. Only a few moons ago, she needed him, his protection, his reach. Things he gave to her under a false masquerade of caring for her. She had once been grateful for his attention and devotion, but now she saw how it came with too many strings and conditions. Whatever caused his love for her, it was no longer enough, and she found Baelish to be unnerving and his attention uninvited. 

So, she avoided him at every meeting, and gathering, busing herself so she had no moments to spare with Littlefinger. It didn’t stop his lingering gaze or shrewd comments. Sansa could only hope to avoid him long enough until she had secured the support of the Vale and Jon could dispense of him.

That plan only worked so long as Baelish did not seek her out, which he did. Often. “Apologies Queen Sansa, I do not mean to interrupt your prayer.” Apparently, Baelish continued to have no qualms about disturbing her while she thought, planned, and even occasionally prayed in the peace of the Godswoods. 

Sansa opened her eyes to find the Godswood around her widely unchanged from when she started her prayer moments ago. Same face in the tree, snow-covered clearing, and trees providing privacy. She didn’t need to turn her head to know that he had followed her and the two of them were now alone, “Lord Baelish.”

The coolness of her voice did little to derail him as the next sounds were of snow crunching under boots, “The last we spoke here, I told you of my dream.” 

“Yes, a pretty picture I recall. Though now seems impossible.” Sansa rose from her knees as Baelish came to view out of the corner of her eye. Her marriage to Jon secured the fact she would never be Baelish's queen or wife. Thank the gods for that. 

“Nothing is impossible.” He crowed, unabashedly optimistic. 

Sansa brushed snow off her skirts and walked past him, determined to hold her head high. She held no desire to parlay with him today and hoped her cold attitude stated that. She nearly had all the pieces in place to take him down for good as her talks with Yohn Royce proved his distaste and willingness to side against Baelish. She just needed to be patient a little longer. 

He caught her arm as she tried to walk past him, his words falling out of his mouth at an alarming state, “The rumors of the Dragon Queen, across the sea. Rumors that only grow. An alliance makes sense between her and the leader of the strongest kingdom in Westeros. An alliance that would result in your annulment and then where would that leave you?” He tilted his head as he raised an eyebrow, thinking he had backed her into a corner.

But no, Sansa had already thought of this and had set up security so instead of leaning away from Baelish, she smirked and leaned forward to whisper, “My marriage has been consummated, unable to be annulled.” 

Secretly she enjoyed the scowl that appeared in frustration. How he must hate losing her. That much had become apparent as the more chaotic and unhinged he had become. He made bold declarations with little to no backing. In the mere days since her coronation, he had alienated himself from most of his allies, desperate to stay by her side. In doing so, most of the court now stood against him.

“Besides, you said so yourself, I am the key to the North, Jon doesn’t need the Dragon Queen. He needs me. He’s loyal to me and I to him.” Sansa pulled her arm out of his grasp and walked away with her head held high. Their marriage had the support of all the Northern Houses and an annulment would only shatter that. Neither her nor Jon would dare risk it. 

“And are your people loyal?” Baelish yelled after her, “They turned on him once, they can turn on him again. It’s already started in your own family. Bran is the furthest thing from loyal, he is a threat. And haven’t you seen how your sister regards Jon Snow? She cares for him, more than she cares for you. She wants him, and your crown.” 

His words did stall Sansa in her step as doubts crept in. The loyalty they now had was fragile, and a misstep would take it away. Bran had such power that she feared, and Arya remained distant from her since the announcement of the engagement. Sansa wanted to believe that her family and the North were strong, but she knew that strength was day by day. 

“Good day, Lord Baelish.” Sansa turned sharply on her heel and quickly made for the exit of the Godswood. A tear of frustration escaped her eye and rolled down her cheek. She hated this and she hated him. Petyr Baelish was nothing more than lies and false promises, only concerned for himself. She could handle his vile words, but not when they included her family.

It has been entirely too long of playing games with Littlefinger and it was time to get rid of him. But first, she needed to talk to her sister.


End file.
